


i could spend forever here looking at the stars (so long as they keep the night at bay)

by sammyspreadyourwings



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Cuddling & Snuggling, Early Queen (Band), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Multi, Power Outage, Storms, fear of darkness, fear of storms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:20:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25518691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammyspreadyourwings/pseuds/sammyspreadyourwings
Summary: Brian stays home to work on an essay. The boys go out for the night. A storm decides to roll through town and causes the power to go out.Brian is also afraid of the dark and thunder, so it turns out to be a not so good night for him.
Relationships: John Deacon/Brian May/Freddie Mercury/Roger Taylor
Comments: 5
Kudos: 46





	i could spend forever here looking at the stars (so long as they keep the night at bay)

**Author's Note:**

> I had an urge.  
> I completed the urge.

Brian leans back over the chair, letting his shoulders pop as he lets out a long groan. He blinks his eyes and yawns, tears gathering at the corner of his eyes. His lips smack together as he closes them, yawning once more. He drops the pencil to swipe his sleeve over his eyes and to stretch out the cramp that’s forming. Roger might make fun of him for the ‘old-fashioned’ way he composes his first draft of the essay.

He reaches for his phone, almost brushing it off of the table as he fumbles for it. The digital display reads 23:21. There are a few silent notifications. His study group Snapchat has a few messages and his latest Instagram post (a post-shower selfie that John had been drooling about all day) has a new comment. Brian nearly sets his phone down when a new alert pops up.

It’s a weather alert, he pulls it down and sees that the severe storm warning has been extended. Brian shivers and looks out of the window. He can’t see the sky because of the desk lamp angled towards it. The steady pelting of the rain hits against the pane. Another yawn surprises him and he pushes away from the desk.

“A break wouldn’t hurt,” Brian says to himself.

Tom lifts his head from where he had been sleeping in his cat bed, letting out a big yawn as he stares at Brian through tired eyes. He shakes his head causing his bell to ring loudly.

“If you’d like I can sneak you more cat treats.”

For a moment he thinks that Tom might join him blinking his eyes and slowly waking himself up. Brian sighs in relief at not having to wander the mostly dark house alone.

_Crack!_

Tom leaps from the cat tower bed and takes off through the hallway. Brian’s hands cover his ears and try to calm his breathing. The rain smacks against the window harder. He puffs up his cheeks and lets out a stream of air until they lay flat again.

Once the fizzing of the thunder fades, Brain reaches behind him to turn the light so that it’s now shining into the hallway. He moves to the window, shuffling his feet against the shaggy rug Freddie made them put into the room. The darkness of outside seems to twist and turn, Brian glances around to where he can see their landladies solar lights. It’s raining.

“Not sure what I was expecting,” he says.

Brian pushes away from the wall and grabs one of the cups that is forming a barrier around his essay. He swirls it around and sees that the coffee has started to leave a residue. The hallway leading to the steps is short and he listens to the sticking of his feet to the wooden floor. They had picked this flat because it had been the most soundproofed one in their budget, but Brian found out he hates it when it’s empty.

Sound gets swallowed.

He reaches the top of the steps and stares down to where he can barely make out the kitchen. Brian takes a soft bracing breath, he knows that the kitchen isn’t dark, the window faces the street. The rain can be heard against the windows and Brian scurries back to their room. His room blinks with a new notification, but he doesn’t care to check it, instead he flicks his flashlight on.

Armed with bright light he shuffles down the steps, happy for them to creak for once as he hits the second to last stair. Thunder crashes outside again. Brian sucks on his bottom lip. He finishes the crossing from the steps to the kitchen.

The too-bright fluorescent light buzzes as Brian clicks the light switch on. Brian watches the rain hit the window, apparently the wind is pushing against the back of the flat because the rain isn’t as nearly as heavy as it was in the bedroom. He sets the cup into the sink and runs the water in it, letting the brown lighten and then overflow at the top.

A bell tinkles and he sees that Tom has decided to visit with him after all. He weaves between Brian’s legs and lets out a tiny _mew._

“Do you want some chicken?” Brian asks.

Tom flicks his tail before wandering over to his water bowl to lap at the dry bottom. Brian bends down to pick it up and lets it rapidly fill up before setting it down on the mat again. Some spills over as Tom brushes against his hand, the cat hisses as it gets his head wet and rushes off.

“Sorry!” Brian calls, “don’t tell Freddie.”

He stands up and opens up their drink cabinet. The bottom shelf is filled with various flavored tea and coffee packs and the higher they go the less casual they go, the very top is filled with their “top shelf” liquor. Brian hums.

“What do I want?” he murmurs, flicking his eyes between the tea and the coffee.

He jumps when his phone pings and lets out a sad wilting noise. Brian picks it up from the counter noting the battery in the corner flashing in a warning. Quickly he unlocks it but before he can shut off his flashlight his screen goes black. He sighs loudly and sets it back on the counter, reaching for one of the various phone cords they leave plugged in.

It’s a fire hazard, but they’ve lost so many cables over the past few years that Brian has conceded to this. He reaches up to pull out a bag of chamomile tea – CRASH! Brian knocks the box out of the cabinet which creates a quieter crash. He bends over the counter and puts his head in his hands and breathes out again.

CRASH! Brian twists around this time to see the overhead lights flicker. His heart hammers in his chest, inching up his throat. He quickly picks up the scattered bags. As a third crash clatters against the flat Brian opens the door and grabs a bottle of soda before bolting up the stairs again.

The rain seems to be hitting the window even harder and Brian flicks the overhead light on as well as the funky globe light in the corner. He pops the top of the bottle open, he lifts it to his lips, his hand shaking causing some of the drink to hit his lips. Brian lets out a sigh and sets the bottle down with a loud thud.

He stares back down at his essay, about two pages from being completed and then at the bed which is far too empty. There is no way that the others would be returning from their night out before three a.m., it’s Friday night after all.

Brian sits back down in the chair again and picks up his pen, rolling it between his fingers. The sky lights up and seconds later the lights flicker instantly the house is shaken by a loud boom of thunder. He helps and launches himself from the chair and to the bed.

The lights flicker again as the storm is really and truly above the flat. Brian dives under the covers and wiggles around until his head is properly by the pillows again. As he peeks out of the blankets he sees that the desk lamp is flickering much faster. Brian presses his lips together.

Lightning cuts through the comforting warm light of the room. The house shakes like it's giving one last heaving breath and with a soft _pop_ the lights go out. Brian blinks, trying to free his eyes from the halo of light. His throat squeezes tight.

He keeps flicking his eyes around the room, searching for the familiar shapes in the darkness. He rubs his hands over the duvet, swiping the sweat from his palms. Brian whimpers when the seconds tick by and the lights don’t come on. They had a generator, John had grilled the landlady until she promised to get one installed.

There is nothing, just endless silence. Brian shakes and pulls his arms back to his chest and folds them against his stomach. No light in the bedroom, but they have a battery-powered light in the living room that he could use. He wiggles to the end of the bed, he starts sliding his feet out of the blanket.

Blue illuminates the room, casting the shadows into terrifying forms. Brian whimpers and balls up, reaching for a pillow to cover his head with. The thunder rumbles, loud and angry. He stills.

As the thunder ends, lightning strikes again. Brian sucks in a large breath and it gets stuck in his lungs. He tries to force it out but it catches in his throat. Rumbling pushes it out of his lungs, and left breathless he tries to gasp. He takes in three short breaths but it doesn’t feel like enough.

Brian lifts a shaky hand to his eyes swiping the tears away as he tries to remember how to breathe. This deep into the storm it’s a constant change of lightning and thunder. The darkness spins around and forms hideous shapes. The house shakes.

He digs his fingernails into the skin of his wrist trying to calm himself. It’s just a storm. It’s just a power outage. Brian whimpers and tries to keep pulling in air. There feels like avoid of oxygen around him. The darkness sucks everything away from him.

His head whips around as he hears a creak further in the house. Brian shakes his head.

“No,” he whispers.

The house doesn’t creak. He would know if it creaks. The house groans. Creaking is a footstep. He’s the only one in the house. Should be the only one in the house for hours still. Brian shakes his head. There aren’t any monsters. His parents promised him many times that there was nothing that the darkness would bring.

He shivers. The house feels colder. Brian shuffles further underneath the blankets but he doesn’t pull them over his head. He looks out towards the room, trying to look for any glimmer of light that isn’t the sharp blue of a bolt of lightning.

His lungs still feel like they’re moving air slowly like it has sung to the very bottom lobe and doesn’t have the strength to wheeze out. Brian wraps around himself, his hands rubbing against his arms roughly, trying to warm himself up and to give himself a sensation of being a body. Not just trapped in the endless void.

He whimpers. Sniffling and then curses. The first part of his Ph.D. is in the drawer of the desk, he has a label looking to produce their music. Being afraid of the dark – when he’s studying space and stars – is a child’s fear.

When the thunder shakes the house again he bites the tip of his tongue. He pulls the pillow over his head and closes his eyes. His body twitches every time there is thunder or lightning eeks through his pillow.

A lull in the storm brings the smacking of the rain on the window and the house creaking again. Brian releases a sob and with it the air in his lungs he wheezes out. He prays that it means that the storm will pass soon. As he brings his knees up to his chest, the storm resumes in full force.

How many hours had this storm been raging? It must be greater than three. Three hours with nothing to prove that the outside world existence but the growl of thunder. Brian loosens his grip on his pillow just enough to wipe the tears from his eyes, jumping at the thunder seems to come in threes now.

He pulls his head from the pillow to stare around the bedroom. The lightning flashes frequently but it isn’t as sharp as before. Still, the lights haven’t come on, but he can see some shapes in the darkness. Something jumps onto the bed and Brian screams.

The quick tinkling of a bell disappearing down the hall breaks the silence. It also breaks Brian’s resolve. Great sobs tear from his throat and he feels the tears cascade down his cheeks like the rain is doing outside. Tom had been his one hope for a reminder that he isn’t alone and he had scared the cat away, and now he truly is trapped in a hell of his own making.

A quiet noise sounds from further in the house. He almost thinks it’s the cat meowing, indignantly, but it gets louder and more deliberate.

“Ain!”

He jumps and whimpers at the voice.

“Brian!” The voice is clear now and he can now make out the even thuds of footsteps.

He pushes the comforter down only to have to close his eyes as a bright white light is shined in them.

“Sorry, love.”

The light is lowered but kept on the bed. Brian soaks in the view of the pattern before lifting his eyes and noticing the shadowed form of John. Brian sniffles and claws his way out of the covers to the end of the bed where John is standing. He wraps his arms around John’s waist.

Freddie smells like club air, sweaty and alcohol tinged but he’s warm and a person and he brought light. He shoves his face into John’s stomach and quietly sobs.

“Hey, Bri,” John mumbles, his hands run down Brian’s curls.

He nuzzles against the soft shirt and hiccups. John’s second-hand wraps around his shoulder and squeezes.

“Easy, love. Easy.”

Brian knows he is ruining John’s shirt but he still can’t help it as he keeps rubbing his face against a warm and breathing body. He only pulls away when he hears another set of footsteps, less steady and even. Roger appears in the doorway, also waving a flashlight around the room.

“Found ‘im?” Roger says.

“Yeah,” John whispers.

He hears two thuds – followed by a quieter burst of thunder – and then Roger climbs into the bed. Brian feels his arms wrap around him and pulls him away from John slightly. Roger settles his head on Brian’s shoulder, puffing air against his throat.

“We’re here, Bri,” Roger says.

His breath smells of cheap rum. Brian wrinkles his nose and grabs John’s hands to hold them. He shivers at another grumble of thunder.

“Steady, starlight,” Roger murmurs, “Deaks, mmm, wanna get your pants off?”

“Will,” John raises his hands lifting Brian’s with him.

Brian drops them and hiccups as he turns his head to get closer to Roger as John steps away to prep for bed.

“Fred is dealing with the cab,” Roger elaborates, “John wanted to come home as soon as we got the alert, but we couldn’t get an uber.”

“S’okay,” Brian focuses on Roger’s fingers dancing up his arms.

“No, Bri,” Roger yawns, “you don’t like storms. And now the power’s out. Shoulda been here.”

“Shouldn’t be afraid of the dark.”

John crawls in the spot next to him, gently tugging him out of Roger’s grasp before laying down. They shift around so that Brian can hide his face in John’s chest and block out the storm. Roger slides off the bed. He makes out the _whoosh_ of fabric as Roger drops his clothes. He twitches at a scraping sound.

John rubs the back of his neck, “Rog is just closing the blinds, starlight.”

He rolls back over to lay against John’s chest, satisfied that the storm isn’t breaking their windows.

“Hello, my loves,” Freddie trills walking into the room.

Brian peeks out of his space to see that Freddie has his phone light on, sticking out of his pocket. He sees Tom perched on Freddie’s shoulder rubbing against his cheek before hopping down on the bed and curling up in his corner of the bed.

Freddie sends Brian a little wink, “hello there, Brimi.”

He smiles slightly. Freddie crosses around the bed, giving Roger a messy kiss on the cheek before hovering over Brian and waiting for him to roll over and places a light kiss on his lips. He whines as Freddie pulls away.

“I’ll be back soon, lovie.”

Freddie steps away and Roger takes his place, now dressed down in comfortable sleepwear, an old T-shirt that Brain doesn’t know who owned originally and soft sweats John wiggles further away, Brian moving with him. Roger plasters against his back, propped up on his elbow, and grinning in that manic drunk way of his.

“Hey, Bri,” Roger says again.

He pulls a curl and lets it spring against Brian’s face. He flexes his toes against a thud of thunder, but it sounds further away than previously. John kisses his forehead and Roger settles his hand against his hip.

The warmth of the two bodies next to him pushes away the chill from the darkness and the storm. He shoves his leg in between John’s.

“How long?” He mumbles.

“The storm probably was an hour and a half,” Roger kisses a spot on his neck, “how long was the power out?”

Brian shrugs, “dunno, it went out pretty quick when the storm got bad.”

Freddie clicks his tongue as he climbs over Roger and Brian to drop in between John and Brian.

“Ow,” he says as his leg is crushed.

“Oi, I was laying there.”

Freddie turns his head, “you’ve cuddled him enough. My turn.”

“Don’t like being the little spoon either, Deaky,” Roger chirps.

“Try not to sound so pleased now that you get to cuddle Brian all night.”

Freddie’s hand cups his face, his thumb stroking under his eye, “poor thing. I’m sorry we weren’t home sooner.”

Brian shrugs, “should be able to handle a storm and a power outage.”

Freddie hums and leans forward to kiss him between the eyes, “no one is asking you to handle things on your own. We don’t make Rog drive in bad visibility and we rarely for Deaky to the doctor.”

“I see how I rank,” John mumbles.

“Oh hush you, we make up for it.”

Brian chuckles the tension in his chest easing at the familiar banter and presence of his boyfriends.

Roger purrs, “there it is.”

He flushes but Roger leaves a light kiss before settling himself down to sleep. His fingers curl around the hem of Brian’s shirt and his breath ghosts across the back of Brian’s neck. John flings an arm over Freddie, but it’s angled awkwardly and he’ll probably wake up stiff. Brian replaces his legs in between Freddie’s and slides down just enough to stop Roger from tickling his neck all night and to be properly eye level with Freddie wants he settles.

“Night, Bri,” John whispers, “night Rog. Fred.”

“Good night, Deaky. I think Rog has already drifted off.”

“How drunk was he?” Brian frowns.

“Enough,” Freddie replies, “he drank faster than the rest of us at the start of the night.”

Brian hums and closes his eyes. Opening them again to see that the three lights are pointed up on the nightstand. Brighter than the light they usually keep, and he wonders how well Freddie is going to sleep with something like that. It sounds like its only raining now, the storm off to torment some other part of England.

“I think we’ll go get some battery lights tomorrow,” Freddie says.

He keeps his hand moving across Brian’s face, drawing something in the blemishes and freckles he sees there. Brian closes his eyes and feels the callouses from hours with a pencil and at the piano.

“We’ll look weird in the baby section,” Brian says through a yawn.

“Well, then we’ll have to tape a ball under Roger’s shirt then make him waddle about like he will burst any second.”

Brian snorts, “why not John?”

“Roger has the hips, darling.”

He laughs. Still chuckling as his breathing gets deeper and the pattern on his face getting repetitive. Brian might never know why he hates the dark when he loves the stars or why rolling thunder sends him under the covers when he plays to roaring crowds in pubs. For now, he is content to let it remain a mystery.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed.   
> As always leave your thoughts and comments below or come talk to me on Tumblr!!


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